


The Detective Doth Protest Too Much

by nookienostradamus



Series: All's Well That Ends Well [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Affection, Anal Sex, Bottom Connor, Bottom Gavin, Come Eating, Connor is Funny, Connor is Solidly Bi, Customizable Orgasms, Death, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Existential Crisis, Gavin Acts Tough, Gavin is Solidly Gay, Hank is an Enabler, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of sex work, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Prejudice, Rimming, Sex Dreams, Snark, So much fucking coffee, Top Connor, Top Gavin, but he's a softie, macho posturing, not now boner, shh don't tell anyone, unwilling partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nookienostradamus/pseuds/nookienostradamus
Summary: The new consultant to the Detroit Police Department's Homicide Squad is an android. Detective Gavin Reed hates androids. What's worse: "Connor" is chipper, ingratiating, snarky, and won't just sit back and take abuse like an obedient machine.Oh, and he also happens to beinsanelyhot. But Gavin absolutely hasnotbeen thinking about his hands, or his eyes, or his lips, or his...Nope. No, sir. Not at all.





	The Detective Doth Protest Too Much

 

Gavin had never been more disappointed in his life.

Well, that was what he had thought at the time. It wasn’t every day—in fact, it wasn’t _any_ day—that he entered the briefing room to the sight of a _stupidly_ hot guy.

The people he worked with were plain at best and, at worst, should probably be issued a paper bag for the protection of the populace.

Gavin hated to admit that Anderson was actually the best of them looks-wise, because he was such a raging prick. The guy had really let himself go.

But there were pics on the walls (and online, not that anyone would _ever_ know Gavin was looking), and he had been a grade-A hunk of meat in his prime.

And that was certainly _not_ an image that Gavin had jerked off to. No, sir.

He’d strolled in ten minutes late with decent coffee; the brew at the station was absolute swill. Everybody had turned, including Hot Guy.

He had shiny, dark hair, cheekbones to kill for, dark eyes with long eyelashes. Not to mention a mouth personally shaped by God Himself for the sole purpose of sucking dick. Every moment there wasn’t a cock between those lips was an affront to nature. Gavin’s own mouth started to water, and it definitely wasn’t the donuts.

 _Oh, please,_ please _be a transfer_.

“So kind of you to join us, Detective Reed,” Fowler said, staring daggers.

Gavin raised the coffee cup in a half-assed salute and took a seat closer to the front. He wanted at least to be able to stare at Hot Guy’s profile instead of the back of his head.

 _Yeah, save that for later_ , Gavin thought. He chuckled to himself.

“Something funny, Reed?” asked Fowler.

Gavin cleared his throat. “Uh, no, sir.”

“I’ll continue, then.” Fowler tapped the slim remote and and the little projector showed an image on the wall: a bland-looking white guy.

Blond, not Gavin’s type.

“This is a PK600 model android, known by its owners as ‘Sebastian,’” the chief said.

Gavin scowled. A plastic: _definitely_ not his type. He hated the things—damn dead-eyed walking mannequins. He was even the kind to cross the street to avoid brushing by one. In the last couple of years, android sex clubs had popped up in one or two places in the city. They were never empty, but Gavin couldn’t understand it. Even if you could teach one (program one?) to say all the right things, make all the right noises, he’d rather stay home with his hand than stick it to a cold, rubbery thing and call it “sex.”

“It’s currently in the wind,” Fowler went on, “after fatally assaulting its owner. The owner’s name was Tate Caldwell. Caldwell’s wife said the assault occurred while the android was trying to kidnap their daughter, Jessica. She reported that Jessica _did_ leave with it but later returned to the house.”

“She got away?” Gavin asked, shooting a look over to Hot Guy. He was staring intently at Fowler. _A teacher’s pet_ , thought Gavin. Well, that could work one of a few ways. It might take more convincing to tempt him into the sack with a fellow detective. Or he could be a repressed freak ready to break loose with the right...stimulus.

Fowler frowned, looking uncomfortable. “The daughter told them both that, uh, she and the...android…were running away together. Apparently that precipitated the fight in which Mr. Caldwell was killed.”

Gavin heard Anderson mutter, “Jesus Christ.”

That seemed to be the only thing the two of them agreed on: how much they hated androids.

“So we’ve got plastic pedophiles now?” Gavin asked.

Fowler choked a little, clearing his throat to cover it. “The daughter is nineteen. Technically an adult. The problem here is Caldwell’s murder, not consent or” —he looked over at Hot Guy— “property issues.”

 _So was the dude with Financial Crimes?_ _What the fuck?_

After clearing his throat again, Fowler said, “Obviously, crimes involving androids are getting more complex. There are, uh, _emotions_ involved.” He clicked off the projector. “So DPD appealed to Cyberlife for a little help. They’ve sent us an expert who might be able to help us decipher this case and figure out what to do going forward.”

“Find it and put it down,” someone else whispered. “It’s not that hard.”

“Amen, brother,” Gavin said.

Fowler slapped the podium. “ _Sensitivity_ is the name of the game going forward, ladies and gentlemen. I want to invite, uh, _Connor_ to come up and say a few words.”

Hot Guy started to get out of his seat.

 _Okay_ , Gavin thought. _A scientist or something. Not my usual, but fair game._ He bounced the name around in his mind, trying out a few possibilities: _You like that, Connor? Yeah, Connor, just like that_. He shifted in his seat. Any more of that and he was going to have to adjust his pants and think about…

As Connor took the podium, any chance of a chub went right out the window. Something on his right temple glowed blue, then yellow.

_No wonder he was so damn perfect. Cyberlife hadn’t sent a researcher. It had sent a product._

“Aw, fuck me sideways.” Gavin hadn’t even realized he’d said it out loud until everyone in the room was staring again.

“In your dreams,” said Iqbal. She would have been a decent-looking girl, Gavin had often thought, if her eyes weren’t so far apart you had to take a goddamn cab across her nose.

“Sensitivity, people,” Fowler repeated, massaging his own temples to ward off a headache. “Sometimes it means shutting your fucking mouth.”

“Connor” or whatever it was calling itself launched into some _Thank you for this opportunity_ horseshit, but Gavin didn’t hear much of the rest of the briefing. He was pissed, and felt betrayed on behalf of his poor, innocent dick. They should make androids look like C-3PO, not ridiculously fuckable corporate twinks. Wherever that cunt Kamski was, Gavin was going to hunt him down and knock his teeth down his throat.

After shift, he wanted to hit up a bar, but didn’t want to talk to anyone. At his usual haunts, Gavin occasionally got hit on. Flat-out propositioned, too, though that was only once. The attention was part of the point.

Not like he thought he was the hottest of hot shit, but he knew he wasn’t ass-ugly, either. He had a nice jawline, good shoulders, big hands. Larger-than-average cock. Gavin wouldn’t be showing up in any magazines, but he was still doing just fine in the looks department, thank you very much.

And he _should_ have wanted some warm, tasty _human_ company after the day’s unpleasant surprise, but he honestly just wanted to be left alone. He ended up in a shitty little joint called Jimmy’s—very creative—where the clientele was older and, frankly, run down hard. Beards, biker vests, baseball caps...body odor.

Gavin shrugged it off and went to the very end of the bar. Nobody had looked up; with a couple days’ scruff and his leather jacket, he could blend. He made a last-minute decision to treat himself to a double of Johnnie Blue. The bottle was nearly full.

Trying to make it last, Gavin challenged himself to figure out where the glass had been made by looking through the whiskey to the backwards letters stamped on the bottom. He was pretty sure it was Taiwan.

When he looked up to give his eyes a break—why, who should park his ass a few stools down but fucking Anderson. No _way_.

He picked up the glass, prepared to shoot the precious stuff and slink out the back, when Anderson said, “This ain’t your kind of place.”

Gavin shot him the stink-eye. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Anderson narrowed his eyes. “Nobody’s gonna suck your dick.”

“Didn’t expect them to. ‘Homophobic Redneck’ isn’t my type.”

At that, Anderson laughed. “Oh, it ain’t that. Plenty of old queers in here. They’re just smart enough to figure out you’re an asshole before you take your pants off.”

Now double-pissed, Gavin tossed back the rest of the whiskey. “Their loss, then.” He pointed a finger at Anderson’s smug face. “Because I’m an _epic_ fuck.”

Anderson feigned disappointment. “A loss for humanity, considering you’re chasing plastic these days.”

Gavin was very glad it was dark so Anderson wouldn’t see him blush. “I didn’t know. And you wouldn’t either. Put a—put a _hat_ on him... _it_...and nobody can tell the difference. It’s sick. It’s...false advertising.”

“Plenty of people don’t care if they’re fake or not,” Anderson said. “Look at all the clubs going up: Eden, The Slide...what’s that other one?”

“Yeah, I bet you know all of them,” Gavin said.

Anderson scowled. “I’m done with that shit. Not my scene. I don’t want to go stick it to someone—or something—I can’t connect with.”

Gavin tilted his chin and rested it on his hand, going for fake cutesy. “Aw, Anderson is sentimental. Don’t worry, I won’t tell too many people.”

With a sniff, Anderson looked away. “Maybe you should try it sometime. You’re not gonna be Mr. Tightbody Shithead forever. Someday, you’re just going to be a fat, bitter, _old_ shithead. Then try dipping your wick, pal.”

Gavin stood for a second or two, his mouth hanging open. Anderson, dropping the real truth hard. And roasting himself in the process. Suddenly, Jimmy’s seemed like a bleak hellscape and Gavin couldn’t wait to leg it out of there.

Back at his place, he spent an hour tossing and turning before getting up to pop a sleeping pill. The bastards made him foggy in the morning, but he was sick to death of listening to his own brain go ‘round and ‘round like a hamster.

In the dream, someone was giving him head. Gavin was fully clothed; the guy completely naked. He looked down. There was a fall of dark hair covering his mystery lover’s face. Gavin caught or two glimpses past a sculpted chin to tight abs and a gorgeous cock.

Then the guy looked up—same cheekbones, same dreamy-dark eyes, same insanely perfect lips as those Gavin had first seen in the briefing room. It was the thing calling itself Connor, but somehow Dream-Gavin wasn’t freaking out. In fact, he only reached down and put his hand on that shiny hair. He brushed it first away from one temple then the other. _This_ version of Connor had no LED, and his pale temples fluttered with a very human pulse.

 _Bingo_ , Gavin thought, then leaned back and shoved his hips forward, determined to enjoy it even if it wasn’t real. It was only when he looked to his right side that he realized there was a mirror.

Everything made a perfect picture, until he saw the LED embedded _in his own temple_.

He woke gasping and punching the shit out of the wall next to his bed.

 

**

 

The combo of sleeping pill hangover and bruised knuckles the next morning did not make for optimum policing...or optimum mood. Gavin managed a tilt of the chin at the people he tolerated and a grunt at the people he didn’t when walking in. Anderson gave him a smarmy smile and got a two-bird salute in return.

For no reason at all, the Connor- _thing_ was in the little kitchenette. It must have heard Gavin’s slapping tread, because it turned around—with a cup of coffee in its hand—and nodded stiffly. “Good morning, Detective.”

“Shove it, toaster.”

It shrugged and turned back to the coffee, adding another packet of fake cream.

“Why are you even trying?” Gavin asked. “You got some coffee compartment in your metal guts so you can pretend you don’t creep people out?”

“I don’t contain any metal, Detective Reed. Androids are not robots. And the coffee is not for me. It’s for Lieutenant Anderson, as a show of good faith.”

Gavin huffed a disbelieving laugh. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to get Anderson on your side. I’ve worked with that jackoff for six years and he still won’t give me the time of day.”

The android tilted its head. “I wonder why that is.”

Rage flared up in Gavin’s muddled brain. He stomped toward the thing. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” It sucked that he had to look up a little to stare it, well... _down_. Of course Cyberlife would make them tall. Not that coming in under six foot had ever prevented Gavin from pulling primo ass.

Connor only stared at him.

Gavin was pretty sure it was pretending the wide-eyed innocent look. He snarled and smacked the paper cup, sending coffee spilling all down the front of that ridiculous uniform. “Oops,” he said, grinning. “I don’t know how Anderson likes his coffee, but I’m pretty sure it’s not ‘all over the floor.’”

It was only after sauntering out triumphantly that Gavin realized he’d forgotten to get coffee of his own.

Later in the afternoon, Fowler stepped out of his office and shouted Gavin’s name.

Gavin usually took his time when the chief did that. First, because he wasn’t a trained goddamn dog who just came to heel when somebody yelled. And second—usually—because he knew he was going to get handed down a shit assignment. Six years and still treated like a junior detective. It chafed his ass.

“Reed,” Fowler said, “patrol picked up the fugitive android. I want you to go down to booking and interview it.”

“Why?” Gavin asked. “We already know what went down. And what’s going to happen.” Goddamn if he wasn’t having androids shoved in his face left, right, and center. “What’s me going down there going to prove?”

Surprisingly, the chief’s shoulders sagged. “Fuck if I know, Reed. It’s a new world. These androids are...I don’t know. People are saying they’re different than what we thought. All I know is the Detroit PD gets its ass kicked all over this country for being dead last on policing initiatives. Maybe we can be second-to-last on this one, huh?”

“Fuckin’ A,” Gavin muttered. “Fine.”

“Take Connor with you.”

“No,” Gavin said. “No way.”

Fowler had the hard set to his face that said he wasn’t budging. “Look, let Connor do the talking to this thing. Play on your christing phone for all I care. It’ll be recorded and Cyberlife will know we’re doing our part.” He rolled his eyes and raised his hands, crooking the fingers in those “air quotes” that everybody used to do when Gavin was a kid. “ _Outreach_.”

“Fine,” Gavin sighed. “Jesus.” He turned on his heel and walked...smack into Connor’s immovable chest. “Fuck!” he shouted, backpedaling.

“Be careful, detective,” Connor said. “You’re very lucky you didn’t have coffee in your hand.”

Gavin surged forward again, poking a finger at that pale, smug (gorgeous) face. “Why, you little piece of—”

Behind him, Fowler cleared his throat loudly. “Toddle along, children.” He made a shooing gesture, then turned to walk back into his office, saying, “They don’t pay me enough to put up with this shit.”

“All right,” Gavin said. “Come on, tin can. Let’s get this over with.” He was extra miffed that Connor’s stuffy suit looked clean and dry. It couldn’t have extras floating around, right? Where did it stay? Did it just hang out at the station after hours? Shut itself off and tuck into a closet? Gavin chose to entertain the amusing image of Connor scrubbing down his pants in the men’s room, holding the silly jacket under the ionizing dryer.

Very unfortunately for him, that also included imagining what was underneath the jacket. For Gavin himself, collared shirts and neckties were close to the top of the list of things he hated most in life. And it was a long-ass list. However, _other guys_ in a shirt and tie—maybe with the sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned, tie slightly askew—well, let’s just say his dick couldn’t be held responsible for its actions. Walking out to the motor pool, he definitely was _not_ thinking about long, white forearms or big hands around his wrists.

In the car, Connor was quiet for a few minutes, which led Gavin to think he wouldn’t try conversation at all. No dice, though.

“Have you ever interviewed an android accused of a crime, Detective Reed?” he asked.

“No. And I shouldn’t have to now.”

“What is the usual protocol?”

Gavin slapped the wheel with his palm. “The ‘usual protocol’ is me not having to deal with this shit. Some android is on the fritz, usually Cyberlife hustles to pick it up. I guess they take it apart and run diagnostics. Look for viruses. Whatever.”

“We don’t get viruses,” Connor told him.

Gavin sighed. “Like I said: whatever. Not my department.” He actually turned for a second to look at that face. So right and so wrong at the same time; it was supremely unfair. “You’d know better than I would.”

“Likely not,” Connor countered. “Cyberlife is a complex organization. I’m only one small part of it. Orders come down from the top, and I follow them, whether I believe they’re fair or not.”

Gavin barked a harsh laugh. “So Cyberlife is City Hall. I keep saying: put one of those bloodsuckers in their three thousand-dollar suits and their goddamn Prada pumps in front of a perp with a weapon and see how they do. If you’re not cop, and you’re not street, you don’t know shit and shouldn’t be able to say shit about it.”

“There are definite similarities,” said Connor.

If Gavin wasn’t mistaken, there was the smallest hint of an upturn at the corners of his (incredible) lips.

Over at central booking, the android that called itself Sebastian was sitting, hands on knees, in the holding area, flanked by two patrol officers.

“Why isn’t it cuffed?” Gavin asked, immediately pissed off.

“I turned myself in,” the android said. “I know what I did was wrong.” It raised its head, looking first at Gavin. An obvious spark of hope lit up behind those artificial eyes once it saw Connor there.

“That was a wise decision,” Connor said.

“Are they going to decommission me?” asked Sebastian. The question was directed at Connor.

He only said, “I don’t know.”

“Cuffs don’t work on them, bro,” one of the officers said, finally getting around to answering Gavin’s question.

“It’s ‘Detective Reed,’ jackass,” Gavin said. “I’m not your fucking bro.”

Suddenly, chaos erupted from the other end of the big room. There was some unintelligible bickering, then a girl shouted, “Sebastian!”

The android stood up at once.

One of the officers clocked him in the face. “Sit the fuck down.”

“Hey!” Gavin shouted, holding up a hand. “Back off, huh?” He pointed at the other uniform. “You keep an eye on him. I’m going to go find out what the hell is happening.”

Across the room, a guard was holding a teen girl by the arm. She was straining away from him, but he had her in an unforgiving grip.

“Let her go,” Gavin told him.

She ran toward Gavin and clung to his jacket when the guy cut her loose. “Please,” she said. “I know he’s here. I just want to see him one last time.”

Even without the puffy face and eyes bloodshot from crying, Gavin could see she was a really beautiful girl: dark skin, big eyes, twining curls in a kind of halo around her face. This had to be Jessica, the daughter.

“That guy hurt you?” Gavin asked.

She rubbed her arm. “A little.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll have a chat with him later, okay? Can you tell me what’s going on?”

A round of fresh tears poured down Jessica’s cheeks. “I love him. They’re going to kill him.”

She looked _wrecked_ over that android. Gavin tried to think back to nineteen. He was pretty sure at that point he was still mistaking _I want to bang you_ for feelings, but what the fuck did he know? It wasn’t like he was throwing _love_ around fast and loose, even these days. “They’re…” he paused, thinking of something that wasn’t going to put the distraught girl over the edge. “Nothing’s decided about anything, okay? I’m just here to talk to it, uh…” he grimaced. “ _Him._ ”

“Please,” Jessica repeated. “I just need to see him. To make sure he’s okay.”

Connor and this Sebastian aside, Gavin was going to look like Dickhead of the Week if he didn’t let the girl at least get a look at her...whatever. He sighed. “Real quick. But don’t put any ideas in his head, okay? You guys try to run again, he’s going to get shot and you’re going to be arrested for aiding and abetting.”

The girl gave a solemn nod, hiccupping softly.

The android was sitting down, a little cut on ( _his_?) cheek leaking blue fluid.

Gavin pre-empted the two officers by saying, “Let him up.”

Hands out, trying to put across harmlessness, Sebastian stood and walked a couple of steps.

Jessica met him, rushing into his arms and clutching his face. “Baby, what did they do to you?” She peered over his shoulder at the officers.

Gavin really wouldn’t want to be on the other end of whatever look she gave them.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian said, trying to brush the tears away from her cheeks even though new ones spilled over. “A misunderstanding.”

“We shouldn’t have come back,” Jessica said.

“I don’t want to spend my life running,” Sebastian told her. “And you deserve better than that.”

She wailed. “I don’t want _better_. I want _you_.”

“Jessica,” said Sebastian, “you have to promise me that you’re not going to let this ruin your life. If we...if we don’t—” He ducked his head and when he raised it again, _his_ eyes ran with tears.

Part of Gavin was impatient, but part of him was embarrassed—like he shouldn’t be looking in on this. He hadn’t even felt like this much of a voyeur in sixth grade, when he’d hidden in the bushes outside Jermaine Carter’s window to watch him take his shirt off. Jessica and Sebastian were spouting all the lines from some airheaded romance film, too. But when it was for real, they didn’t come off as cheesy. And he’d never in a million years admit that the reason he avoided those movies was a stark, paralyzing fear that he’d end up crying like a bitch baby. He didn’t want to look over at Connor.

“Promise me you’ll move on,” Sebastian was saying.

Jessica was clinging to his hand, pressing it to her face. She sounded perilously close to a total meltdown. “I don’t think I can!”

Gavin decided it was time to bust things up. “Okay, we’ve got to move this along.”

“No,” said Jessica.

At the same time, Sebastian told her, “Go.”

“Jessica,” Gavin said. “Come on. Let go.”

Sobs were shaking her narrow shoulders, but she pulled away from Sebastian. Immediately, she put her arms around Gavin’s neck and wept into his shirt. Feeling supremely awkward, he held up one hand toward the officers and put up two fingers on the other, signaling Interview Room Seven.

They started to lead the slump-shouldered android away.

“I gotta go,” Gavin told Jessica. “I’ll keep you posted. If I can.”

“Am I ever going to see him again?” she asked, wiping her nose.

Gavin swallowed. It was painful. “I don’t know, kid.”

Through the interview, which didn’t turn up anything investigators didn’t already know, Gavin didn’t look at Connor and hardly even looked at the suspect. He’d get to wash his hands of it all at the end; PD agreed to hand him over to Cyberlife. He didn’t quite feel like the vet who had to put down some kid’s puppy, but he definitely felt like the guy who handed the puppy over. And the Cyberlife scientists didn’t have to deal with a devastated teenager who was dumb or unlucky enough to fall for someone’s property because it happened to look like a person. It made Gavin pissed off all over again at the company. It threw out these deceptive bullshit tactics, all to make bank off lonely single guys and naive kids.

“You didn’t lie to that girl,” Connor said to him in the car, while Gavin was chewing his lip to hold off the craving for a smoke.

They found lung cancer a lot earlier and treated it a lot easier these days, but he’d decided that puffing on coffin nails to piss off his mother had worn thin a few years back and wasn’t worth a chest full of tumors.

“You think I should have?” Gavin asked.

“No. It’s quite probable that she will never see the PK model again.”

It was true, but it made Gavin’s mood blacker anyway. “I fucking hate dealing with the families. I’d rather get shot at on the daily than do another next-of-kin visit.”

Connor made a little humming sound. “It doesn’t seem that way.”

Gavin looked over at him. “Yeah? What would you know about it?”

“I only meant that you handled it well,” Connor said. “You told the truth without being either cold or overly emotional. And you didn’t seem uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Gavin said, “well, I’ll be sure to make note of your ringing endorsement at my next performance review. And, for your information, I _was_ uncomfortable. _Very_. I don’t want them touching me, getting their snot all over me. I’ve got a job to do.”

“You don’t like interacting with androids,” Connor said. “You don’t like interacting with humans. Tell me, Detective Reed: is there anything you enjoy?”

Gavin was gripping the wheel so hard he almost couldn’t make the next turn. “Yes, _Connor_. I’d enjoy it if you would shut the fuck up.” He turned away and muttered, “Goddamn talking appliances,” and was pretty sure that Connor heard.

 

**

 

The next day in the kitchenette, there was an entire takeout _jug_ of Gavin’s favorite coffee sitting on the counter by the sink. Beside it was a small stack of paper cups.

“Oh, fuck _yes_ ,” Gavin whispered, rushing over to grab one of the cups. It couldn’t have been there that long, because when he pressed the little plastic lever on the insulated carrier, what came out was steaming and thick as mud. He almost popped a chub. Coffee was the only thing these days that drowned out the voice in his head screaming _Have a cigarette, Gavin!_

Knowing the way the guys thought of him, he was pretty close to certain the coffee was left over from an early-morning meeting and not placed here for him. But if that was all wrapped up and it was still basically untouched, well...finders keepers.

Just a splash of cream and he was in heaven, happy to burn his lip over and over just to get that amazing stuff in his face. Over the course of the day, maybe one other person on the entire squad sampled the coffee, which to Gavin was appalling. Not that he minded being able to run back every time he finished to fill up again, but was it possible that the other guys actually _preferred_ the watery crap from the ancient (and probably never-cleaned) coffee maker? As if Gavin needed another reason to cement his disdain.

The downside to a veritable fucking _well_ of coffee was that toward end of shift, when the other detectives were winding down and looking forward to putting up their feet in their respective shitty bachelor pads, Gavin was still wired. He never took overtime, but tonight felt different. Time to look at some colder cases, maybe take a break every couple hours to push off the wall and rocket his wheeled desk chair from one side of the room to the other with no one to get in the way.

He could hit a bar, he supposed, but oddly enough these days not even gorgeous guys on the street were drawing his eye like they used to. Shit, had he finally grown up and started thinking with his dick less than fifty percent of the time? It coincided pretty suspiciously with the quitting smoking. If Gavin really thought about it, over the last year, he’d been taking home a lot fewer random hook-ups, too. Sometimes it was just easier to rub one out in the comfort of his armchair.

 _Oh, shit…_ Did that mean he was getting old? Turning into _Anderson?_ Gavin was only thirty-six, which was not forty, and not a million or whatever Anderson was now. But one of his high school teachers used to say  _The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long_. Maybe Gavin’s candle was on the way out.

Shuddering, struck to the core, he sat at his desk and sipped at the last of the coffee.

A voice behind him: “Detective.”

Gavin vaulted out of the chair. Lukewarm coffee fountained all over his lap and slopped onto his sleeve. “Christ!” He turned around, still clutching the cup.

Connor stood there, hands behind his back, a very _how-does-that-feel-you-asshole_ look on his face.

“You were waiting!” Gavin sputtered.

“I didn’t know you were holding coffee,” Connor said.

Gavin set the nearly empty cup down on his desk, which was now dotted with splashes of coffee. “Well, not anymore.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Before you came along!”

Connor only nodded. “I purchased the coffee for the squad, but it seems you appreciate it most.”

That caught Gavin completely off guard. “You...bought it? With...do they _pay_ you here?”

Connor tilted his chin like a curious dog.

Gavin wasn’t a fan of dogs.

“Technically, I’m a consultant on behalf of Cyberlife,” Connor said. “Unpaid. But money is a human necessity.”

Gavin plucked at his jeans, trying to pull the cold, wet spots away from his skin. “Yeah, but you’re not—”

“No,” said Connor.

There was some weird _feeling_ behind that one word, but damned if Gavin could put a finger on it. Once again, not great with feelings.

On the other hand, the thing with Jessica the other day had pumped up his spirits a little bit after he’d had time to think about it. It sucked that fucking _Connor_ had mentioned it, but failing to entirely lose his shit around a clingy, crying teenage girl might be a step away from the Hank Anderson model of life, where you ended up offensive _and_ ugly.

Connor was still talking. “But I do need to be able to interact with humans on a similar level. I have an expense account.”

 _That_ was a wild image. But, shit: if you could have a lock on your house that recognized your face or a fridge that reminded you when to buy beer, Gavin figured a machine with its own expense account wasn’t too far off base.

He narrowed his eyes. “Did you know it was my favorite coffee place?”

A little pause. “Yes. But it’s also the closest geographically to the station.”

“You know,” Gavin said, “if you want to blend in with people a little more, maybe think about trying not to talk so awkward.”

Connor smiled, but he shook his head. “No, Gavin. You mistake me. I don’t want to blend in with humans. I only want to exist alongside them with as little friction as possible.”

“Something wrong with humans?”

“Something wrong with androids?”

Gavin scowled. “I asked you first.”

“Yes,” Connor said. “Humans kill one another. Often.”

“Well, if they didn’t, I’d be out of a job,” Gavin shot back. “Anyway, one of _you_ killed a human, so there!” He pushed his hips forward and smacked his thighs, going for  _lewd as possible_. “Boom, you fucking microwave!”

Before Gavin could think, Connor’s white hand shot out and grabbed a handful of his shirt, hauling him forward.

On instinct, Gavin grabbed at Connor’s forearm. It felt like a steel beam.

He leaned down, nose about an inch away from Gavin’s. “Not a microwave,” Connor said. “But I can get... _heated_.”

It was a funny line, but there was straight-up murder in the android’s eyes and it withered any possible laughter before it could start. “Shit,” Gavin managed when he was let go. “Chill out.” Trying in vain to straighten the stretched out-shirt, he fought a furious blush. “Got to be some policy against one of you _touching_ us.”

“If it bothers you,” Connor said, “report me to Captain Fowler.” He turned and walked away.

Gavin left the station without bothering to clean up the spilled coffee, even though it would be sticky and way harder to scrub off tomorrow morning. He was embarrassed and fuming and...something else. Whatever it was might or might not be stronger than the first two.

Back at home, he kicked off the coffee-soaked clothes in his tiny laundry room, swearing the whole time. Standing there buck naked, clenching and unclenching his fists, it occurred to Gavin how ridiculous he probably looked.

Luckily, the room had no window.

Might as well stay a while, though, because telling himself to calm down wasn’t working. _The sheer fucking nerve of that thing_ : _taking advantage, slinging Gavin around with that long-fingered hand and strong-ass arm, face like staring down the barrel of a gun…_

 _...where the_ fuck _did this hard-on come from?_

Gavin looked around like there was some boner ghost hiding in the corners of his place. It would be easier than admitting his dick was a fucking traitor to the cause. But since things were headed that way, anyway…

He closed the laundry room door even though he lived alone—maybe so Common Goddamn Sense wouldn’t come calling before he busted a nut. Gavin managed not to think about Connor in the couple of minutes before he came into the bunched-up, coffee-stained shirt he’d just taken off. But he’d thought about hands and lips.

And the lips were incredible.

And the hands were pale and strong.

 

**

 

Shaken and unrested, Gavin wandered into the station the next morning and walked smack into a murder.

Well, not at the station.

And maybe it wasn’t even a murder, but Fowler sure was acting the part.

“Reed!” he shouted across the main floor. “Get your ass over here.”

Blinking, trying to smooth his messy hair down, Gavin walked toward Fowler’s office. He stopped a few feet away when he saw Connor already standing there. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You haven’t even heard what I’m going to say,” Fowler snapped.

“No,” Gavin said, and pointed a finger over at Connor like a tattling school kid, “I’m talking about that thing.”

He expected the Chief to agree, but Fowler’s face went all hard instead. “A couple days of juvenile behavior I can put up with. But you’re going to put aside your prejudice real quick, Detective Reed. Unless you want to find yourself behind the desk in property checking out envelopes of hair samples to cops who can handle their shit.”

“Fuck,” Gavin said, half to himself. “Fine. I got it.”

“Good,” said Fowler. “Take Connor and head out to this place called The Slide. You know it?”

 _Damn, one of those android sex clubs Anderson was talking about_. _Two murders by androids in a week_.

“Heard of it.” Gavin shot a paranoid glance over at Connor.

“The owner is up my ass— _metaphorically_ —because one of his assets got knifed,” said Fowler.

“One of his…” Gavin scratched his head. “Androids killing each other?” This time, the look at Connor had some weight behind it.

“No. Human assailant.” Fowler held his hand out, palm toward Gavin. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m going to stop you right there. It might end up going to property crimes, but like I said with the last one: we’re treading on brand new ground here, and I know just about as much as you do.”

Now a little further down the road to being convinced the world had gone nuts, Gavin just shrugged and said, “Aye aye, Cap. Guess I’ll head out.” One more look to the side. “ _We_ will.”

The owner of The Slide was a guy named Bill Ticknor. And he was beside himself about the loss. Not angry but crying openly—tears going non-stop as he tried to talk through sobs and hiccups. “Cory was amazing,” he wailed. “This is awful! He was never anything but nice. And funny! You wouldn’t expect it, but he was _so_ funny.”

Glancing from side to side, checking if anybody else found this more than a little weird, Gavin asked, “Cory was the...android?”

“Yes!” Ticknor blurted, red-eyed. “One of my best guys. He could make anyone feel comfortable.” He was going on like Cory had been some kind of therapist instead of what boiled down to a talking dildo.

“Can I see the, uh, body?” Gavin asked. Two men dressed in short silk kimonos stood off to the side, one holding the other. Gavin could only see one LED, but they were so sculpted and smooth and well groomed, he had to assume the other was an android, too.

Still sniffling, Ticknor led him and Connor into a private room. It was pretty spacious and the lighting was good, but everything else was weapons-grade tacky: a wall of mirrors plus one over the bed, purple satin sheets, handcuffs soldered to the headboard. It smelled like cheap cologne; they probably pumped it through the air vents.

The satin top sheet had been pulled off the bed and draped over the motionless form lying on the white plush carpet.

Gavin knelt next to it and lifted the sheet.

Ticknor turned away with a little squeak.

The android was definitely gone—whatever term you used. His artificial eyes were upturned so only a slice of the green iris showed. Blue stuff had leaked out of his mouth and stained his perfect, white teeth. There was a lot more of the fluid below his neck and shoulders, with the cause being the six-and-some-change-inch stiletto blade jammed right underneath his chin.

“Fuck,” Gavin said. It _was_ unsettling. He’d never actually seen an android taken out before. Replace the blue with red, and Cory would be a ringer for a dead human. He reached out and touched the back of his hand to the tan-looking cheek, then pulled it away immediately. “Warm,” he said, flinching back and looking up at Connor.

“Optimum stable temperature for androids is very close to normal human body temperature,” said Connor.

“This _just_ happened,” Gavin said. He looked at Ticknor. “Did you see who did it?”

“Yes,” Ticknor told him, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. “He was a new client, but registered.”

“Nobody grabbed him?”

At that Ticknor fixed him with a hard look. “Detective, what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t restrain him personally. And people don’t look kindly on androids who touch humans against their will.”

Gavin swore softly again. He hadn’t even thought about it. “You said ‘registered.’ Clients have to give personal information?”

“Yes,” said Ticknor. “It’s as much for their safety as ours. We tend to trust registered clients; we don’t scan them or pat them down.” He looked down at the body under the sheet. “But we might have to start.”

“Great,” Gavin said. He looked up and waved his hand, dismissing the word. “I mean, not great that you have to tighten up security. But you have this guy’s info. If you could just get it for me, I’ll have some officers go pick him up.”

Ticknor seemed finally able to talk without breaking down. He walked up to Gavin. The guy couldn’t have been taller than five-five, but he held his head up. “I’m not holding out too much hope, Detective, but is there any chance of real justice for Cory? The boys here, they’re my family. I love them all, and I never ask them to do anything they don’t want to do. There are a lot of models that look like Cory. But Cory was one of a kind.”

With no idea what to say for a few moments, Gavin wiped his brow and looked around the room, chewing his lip. He finally made up something that sounded like what Fowler might say: “Uh, I don’t know what justice looks like for this.” He gave in and made a vague gesture toward Connor. “None of us do. But we’re—we’ll try to figure out why this happened and...and go from there.”

In the car on the way back to the station, Connor turned to speak, but Gavin cut him right off. “Don’t say anything about how I handled that or whatever,” he said. “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Humans often don’t—” Connor started.

“Oh, and _you guys_ do, huh?”

“No, Detective Reed. If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that humans often don’t know how to proceed, but they do so using the best tools they have, and it frequently works out.” Connor paused. “I’m willing to be one of those tools.”

“Oh,” Gavin said, “you’re a tool. For sure.”

Connor shrugged and leaned against the seat back. “I could be a hardware store.”

Gavin tried really, really hard not to smile. “Fuck you,” he said.

That afternoon at the station, Gavin went so far as to step outside in his usual smoke spot, but this time without cigarettes. It didn’t really make him crave them that much more, and he let himself hope just a little bit that he was over the hump when it came to jonesing.

Well, for _cigarettes_.

He’d have to get around to addressing _that other thing_ he craved sooner or later, but damned if he wasn’t going to hold out as long as he could. New Gavin could get along with Old Gavin, but not if he dropped on him like a goddamn rodeo bull rider.

Near the end of shift, he walked by the kitchenette, but stopped short when he heard two familiar voices. Connor was actually chatting with Anderson. Gavin tucked himself behind the wall and held his breath, listening.

“Fowler does that to everybody,” said Anderson. “Take it as a compliment. He tries to get new people pissed off enough to quit, then he eases up on the ones that don’t.”

“So, Captain Fowler directs me to work cases with Detective Reed...as a test?” Connor asked.

Gavin frowned. _They were talking about him. Well, shit._

“Look,” Anderson said, “this place is full of strong personalities. And that’s putting it mildly. How’s a guy going to deal with screaming perps and crazy people if he can’t even put up with the squad? You get me?”

“Somewhat,” said Connor. “Detective Reed does not get along well with the rest of the Homicide squad, but he deals with civilians better than I would have expected.”

Anderson chuckled. “He’s an abrasive little shitbird, but he’s not dumb.”

“He isn’t unpleasant to look at, either,” Connor said.

Behind the wall, Gavin’s jaw almost fell onto his chest.

Anderson cracked up at that, thumping his chest with one fist. “Oh, shit! Don’t tell me you want to hatefuck Reed!”

“‘Hatefuck?’” asked Connor.

“Yeah,” said Anderson. “You got a guy you can’t stand, but he’s still a hot piece. Objectively. Well, you figure—also objectively—it’s a lot harder for him to say annoying shit with a dick in his mouth. You get me?”

Heat shot up from Gavin’s collar and spread over his face. He turned and dashed off in the direction he’d come from, making straight for the john. Once inside, he locked himself into a stall and leaned up against the door, breathing hard.

It was totally possible that Connor and Anderson knew he’d been there the whole time and were just fucking with him. But...wasn’t it _also_ possible that Connor actually meant the things he’d said, even if Anderson wasn’t serious.

Or—sweet Jesus—that they were _both_ serious.

In which case, Gavin didn’t know how to feel about Anderson indirectly calling him “a hot piece.” Or about the idea of _him_ sucking Connor off instead of the other way around.

Gavin winced. _Not now, boner! For fuck’s sake, I’m at work._

He adjusted his pants and shook his right leg, trying to get his pathetically one-track brain to think critically about whether Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife, actually wanted a turn in the ring.

It wasn’t like Gavin was going to get all sentimental like Jessica Caldwell or Bill Ticknor. It was far from his first rodeo, and Connor wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t even a co-worker, not really. Just a phenomenally fuckable-looking android who would probably go back to Cyberlife after DPD sorted out what the hell to do about these murders.

In which case, maybe Gavin should take advantage while he could. Nobody had to know. He could bang a plastic with no strings attached, with the added benefit of not having to sign in or get caught on CCTV walking into an android sex club.

An experiment. That was it. So Old, Stuffy Gavin could pipe down for a while. He was going to get his dick wet, anyway.

With that decided, Gavin straightened his shirt and fiddled with his pants, aiming to walk out of the men’s room with head held high. Like _that_ head was actually making the decision and not the one below.

But after an hour or so of thinking, he didn’t really know how to get the message across. Connor didn’t have a console or a phone or anything.

_Does he have an email address for his fucking brain?_

After a few minutes of agonizing, Gavin gave up and wrote his home address on a piece of scrap paper. He made sure to look extra pissed off—but hopefully in a rogue-with-an-unpredictable-temper way and not just the usual, well, _shithead_. He walked up to Connor and slapped the paper against his chest.

“Fine,” Gavin said. “My place tonight. Seven. Either come or don’t.” It took a couple of seconds for Connor to catch on and take the paper, but Gavin didn’t think it hurt the overall effect. Afterward, he just stalked off.

 

**

 

Waiting at home, nursing a whiskey, he sure wished he could bring up the same bravado. Fuck if he wasn’t schoolgirl-nervous, not to mention _responsive_. It would blow the whole thing—not in the good way—if Connor actually showed up and Gavin answered the door with a hard-on.

When the doorbell rang at seven, Gavin almost choked. He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, straighten his shoulders, then slouch again to make sure he looked like he gave one-tenth of the fucks he actually did.

And damn if Connor wasn’t there, standing all stiff and formal as usual.

Gavin couldn’t read his face, but he stepped back and let him come inside. To cover his nerves, he started yapping once the door shut again. “Okay, here’s the deal: no kissing, _I_ fuck _you_ , that’s the only way it goes. I’ll give you a reach-around, but it’s not personal.”

“What are you doing, Detective?” Connor asked.

That threw Gavin for a loop. He stammered, “Rules. Uh, I’m listing rules. For tonight.” He paused, horror growing. “I thought—I mean, I _heard_ …”

“Oh, yes,” Connor said. “I did come here for sex with you.”

“Good,” Gavin said, too loudly. “I mean, well—”

“But I don’t think it needs to be what Lieutenant Anderson said,” Connor cut in. “That is, a _hatefuck_.”

Gavin ran a hand through his hair. He was having problems keeping up the I-don’t-care act. “But you—”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t hate you, Detective Reed. I find you difficult to work with and prone to overreacting. But you are a skilled police officer.”

Gavin actually jumped when Connor reached out and touched his cheek, then immediately felt like an idiot.

“And yes,” Connor said, “physically desirable.”

“Great, fine,” Gavin said, flustered. “Like I said: no kissing. And I fuck you. Okay?”

“That’s fine.”

“What should I call you?” Connor asked.

The tone was light, but it still severely fucked with Gavin’s head. He stood, mouth open, blinking.

_Sir? Master?_

_...Daddy?_

“Gavin…?” he managed.

“All right, Gavin. Will you show me to your bedroom?”

Gavin could only nod. This was going both exactly and not at all how he’d imagined, and it was fucking weird. Still, he was able to muster enough brainpower to lead the way to the bedroom. He’d made the bed for once, which was kind of stupid because they were (hopefully) going to mess it up again.

He moved to throw back the covers to expose the pretty much clean and mostly unwrinkled sheet. When he turned, Connor was just standing there.

“Should I undress myself, or would you like to undress me?” he asked.

As much as Gavin wanted to be pissy about how clinical it sounded, he somehow also found it surprisingly hot. His cock was starting to get interested. “Um, you take off your jacket and shirt. I’ll do the rest.”

Connor nodded and started to strip off right away.

He wasn’t fawning or teasing about it, but he was compliant— _obedient_ , even—and that was proving to be a massive turn-on. He’d shed the jacket and was working on the buttons of the shirt.

“Slower,” Gavin said, testing his newfound powers.

Connor looked up at him, his head still slightly bowed, then took more time going after the next button.

 _Oh, lord, he’s got bedroom eyes_ , Gavin thought. The fact that Connor probably didn’t even realizing he was telegraphing _Fuck me_ as effectively as a neon sign made Gavin even hotter. His skin pebbled up in gooseflesh and his cock did nothing less than _jump_ , diving wholeheartedly into the game.

“Do you want me to orgasm?” Connor asked.

Gavin’s eyes went wide. “What... _now_?”

“At all.”

“Well, uh, yeah,” Gavin said. “It’s—it’s not _hot_ if you don’t get off.”

“Satisfying sex always ends in orgasm?” Connor asked.

“For me,” Gavin blurted. Then he realized how it sounded. “And the person I’m with, of course. Or _people_ I’m with.” He added that last one for effect, but Connor didn’t react. It was odd as hell to be standing here with somebody who didn’t—to be perfectly honest— _care_ if Gavin was a stud. Connor didn’t seem bothered if he’d fucked five people or five hundred, just that _they_ were fucking right now.

Then Gavin had to stop with the pondering, because Connor’s chest was bare and it was nothing short of miraculous. He took a couple steps forward and put his hands on it. The skin felt like anyone else’s, and it was warm like the other android’s cheek. With the very important difference that Connor was still alive. Or... _functioning_. Whatever.  

Holding his breath, Gavin ran his hands up and down Connor’s torso from collarbones to waistline and back up, then over his shoulders, his lean but defined arms. “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered. He was so caught up that it took him a few minutes to realize Connor’s chest wasn’t rising and falling. “You don’t breathe?” he asked.

“I don’t require oxygen,” Connor said. “But if it disturbs you, I can initiate a program to mimic human breathing.”

“Uh,” Gavin said, stalling. If he was going to fuck an android, then he guessed he’d better go all in and _fuck an android_. “No, it’s cool.”

“Thank you, Gavin,” Connor said. “I’d rather concentrate on other physical sensations.”

 _Mmm, okay, then._ Testing, Gavin moved his hand up Connor’s chest again and pinched one colorless nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Well, Connor didn’t breathe, but he _did_ gasp, and oh _fuck_ if that wasn’t delicious. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open.

Intrigued—and well on his way to achingly hard—Gavin did it again. This time, he kept hold of it, pulling and rolling the flesh between his fingers. He leaned in and flicked his tongue over the opposite nipple, at which point, Connor put his hand on the back of his head and made a soft and helpless little sound that had Gavin’s jeans protesting against the strain.

“Is this—is this something you enjoy, as well, Gavin?” Connor asked, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” Gavin mumbled against his skin, “but don’t worry about it right now.” He’d intended to be rough and commanding, _à la grab that android dick and squeeze till he got a reaction_. Instead, he slid his hand down over the front of Connor’s pants and lightly stroked the hardness he found there.

Connor’s head tipped back a little, the long, white neck moving in a suspiciously human fashion.

Gavin had to wonder whether Connor could, well, _swallow_ anything. He was damn tempted to ask him to suck him off and find out, but he also wanted to come inside that ridiculously perky ass. _Maybe next time_ , Gavin thought, and shocked himself with the thought.

It was getting pretty steamy in the room. “Stay right there,” Gavin said. He stepped away slightly and pulled off his t-shirt, catching a whiff of his deodorant and—God help him—cologne. He never wore the shit, and now wasn’t the time to justify why he’d chosen to do so on this occasion.

After dropping the shirt on the floor, Gavin saw Connor was looking him up and down.

He put out a pale hand and rested it in the center of Gavin’s chest. “Hair,” he said.

Gavin was automatically defensive. “Yeah, a lot of guys have it. So what?”

“I don’t have it. But I like it.” Connor paused to scratch his fingernails gently through the light patch of hair between Gavin’s pecs. “On you.”

Gavin grabbed his wrist but didn’t push his hand away. “You don’t have hair...anywhere?”

“Only my head,” Connor replied. “I am modeled on humans, who have eyebrows and eyelashes. And I understand you find hair on the scalp more appealing than none. But anywhere else, it would only be decorative and might even hinder operation.”

Having more than once zipped pubes into his jeans, Gavin had to agree. At least he kept things nice and trimmed down there these days. “So,” he said, “not even on your balls, huh? Do you _have_ balls?”

At that, Connor actually chuckled. “Yes, I have complete and functional genitals.” He paused and looked up at Gavin, tilting his chin slightly. “But maybe you’d like to find out for yourself.”

 _Teasing little shit_. Gavin didn’t have it in him to snark back. He just went right for the button on Connor’s pants and said, “Think I will.” Much to his surprise, Connor was full commando under the pants. His cock sprang free at once: straight, sizable but not huge—perfect as a fucking dildo mold. And sure enough, hairless balls...and legs. Made Gavin feel like a goddamn ape.

The texture of everything looked right, though. Gavin wanted to get his hands on it all.

You know, _just to make sure._

Obliging, Connor toed his shoes off and stepped out of the pants—now fully and gloriously naked.

Gavin got walloped by another surge of want. Content to torture himself just a little longer, instead of stripping down the rest of the way he reached out and wrapped a hand around Connor’s cock, cupping his balls in the palm of the other. Minus the fuzz, everything felt incredibly real and incredibly _good_.

When he stroked a little, kneaded the balls lightly, Connor let out another soft noise and braced his hand on Gavin’s shoulder.

“You like that?” Gavin asked, perilously close to adding _baby_ but stopping himself just in time.

“Yes,” Connor breathed. “I’m very much looking forward to orgasm with you.”

Gavin winced and shook his head. “Come. Just say ‘come.’”

“All right, Gavin. I’d like to come. When you—”

_Say it say it say it…_

“—fuck me,” Connor finished.

Gavin was pretty sure he almost blacked out at that point. “Jesus _Christ_ ,” he muttered. It was way past time to be rid of the rest of his clothes. He tore at his jeans, wrestling them undone and pushing them and his boxer briefs right down and off.

“Interesting,” Connor said.

“What?” Gavin asked, plunged into sudden panic. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”

“No, no. I apologize. You’re very attractive, Gavin. I only meant that your scent is different—stronger—when you’re aroused.”

Gavin frowned. “You’ve been...smelling me?”

“I detect particles in the air,” Connor said. “Humans would call it ‘smell,’ yes. Don’t worry; it’s not unpleasant. I was programmed with positive associations to the scent of human sexual arousal. Female arousal is different in certain ways.”

Gavin’s eyes went wide again. Connor was nothing if not full of surprises. “Wait, you’ve—?”

A smile. “Yes. I was given no gender preference.”

“Do I know her?”

Connor shook his head. “Doubtful. But even so, she would probably want me to be discreet. Does it bother you, Gavin?”

“No, no,” Gavin stammered. “You do you. Just...wow.”

 _Connor the player, pulling down cock_ and _pussy._

“Many humans feel the same, from what I understand,” he said. “For instance, Lieutenant Anderson likes both men and women.”

At that, Gavin stumbled back. “You fucked _Anderson?_ ”

Connor threw his head back and laughed. “No. I believe he is becoming more accepting of me as a colleague, but I don’t think he wants me sexually.”

It was a relief, but Gavin was still lost for words.

Connor closed the distance between them. “You are the first man I’ve agreed to sex with.”

Well, that pumped up Gavin’s pride a little bit and helped bring him back around to the real fucking world. Things came zooming into focus when he felt a warm hand on his cock.

Connor stroked softly, drawing up a drop of wetness that crested and slid down the head. He swiped the fluid up with one fingertip, then placed the finger on his tongue and closed his lips around it.

The way his eyes fluttered closed as he savored the taste made Gavin’s balls tighten up. He put his hands on Connor’s waist and said, “C’mon,” guiding him toward the bed.

Connor’s voice was soft. “Where would you like me?”

Gavin fought hard against the urge to lick up that long neck. “Hands and knees.”

With a nod, Connor got onto the mattress, pale feet hanging off the edge, painfully gorgeous thighs and ass pointed right in Gavin’s direction.

Stifling a groan, Gavin stepped between his feet and grabbed those cheeks, spreading his hands over as much skin as he could grab and pulling them apart with his thumbs. There was no color, but everything else about Connor’s ass looked incredible: sweet and tight.

This time, Gavin didn’t stop himself: he bent and ran his tongue right up the middle.

Connor shivered and squirmed. “Gavin…”

“Shut up,” Gavin said, and dove back in. There wasn’t any taste, either, which Gavin—as a self-described ass-eating connoisseur—found a little weird. But the texture and give was nice, and the little whispery whining noises Connor made drove him right the fuck out of his mind.

Soon enough, even with nothing to taste, Gavin’s mouth was watering—saliva dripping off his tongue and sliding down over Connor’s balls. When he gathered the spit up in his palm and stroked it down over Connor’s cock, at the same time poking his tongue past the muscle (or whatever it was), Connor got _loud._

Gavin had to stop and pull away, panting. “God, you’re going to sound so good when I’m fucking your ass.” With one hand still wrapped around Connor’s cock, Gavin swiped a fingertip through the slick of his spit and pressed gently. To his shock (would Connor never stop throwing him for a loop?), the finger slid all the way inside a tight, slippery channel.

“Jesus,” Gavin breathed. “Did you prep yourself?”

Connor’s voice, when it came, was choked with pleasure. “There’s no need. I have an internal self-lubricating mechanism.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Gavin swore again, only this time high-pitched, close to girly. His balls ached for release. He cleared his throat and tried to get his head on straight. “You ready?”

“Yes, Gavin.”

Wincing, Gavin took hold of his straining cock and guided it. Even with only a little pressure, Connor took the head right away—smoothly—and the rest of him not long after. Gavin exhaled hard as he bottomed out. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Connor said. Somehow, he clenched evenly around Gavin’s cock, holding him tight.

“Wait, wait!” Gavin wailed. “Fucking _shit_! You do that and I’m gonna come before I start!”

“I’m sorry.”

After the white starbursts faded from behind his eyes, Gavin said, “Don’t be sorry. Holy shit. Just...wait.”

“All right, Gavin. I’ll wait for you to ask.”

Another whine escaped Gavin’s throat. He had to clutch that perfect ass and close his eyes, otherwise he’d blow in one or two pumps max. It was fine if Connor didn’t care about his partner count, but he needed him to know he could last.

Gavin took the time to catch his breath and stroke Connor instead. At this point, he figured nothing would shock him anymore, but when he stroked over the head of Connor’s cock, he felt a little slick liquid splash into his palm.

_Self-lubricating, indeed._

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Gavin spread the slippery stuff up and down Connor’s length and tightened his grip.

That earned a groan and some writhing, forcing Gavin to push his hips forward to stay buried inside. But that was okay; he felt steady enough to thrust now, and he started in slow and even, jerking Connor in rhythm.

“Gavin,” Connor offered, completely rapt, “...feels so good.”

“Good, baby.”

_Dammit._

Whatever. Gavin was rolling with it.

Without any prompting, Connor dropped down to his elbows, his long, pale back bending in a shallow arc. “It feels _very_ good,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Gavin asked. “You going to come?”

A brief whine. “May I?”

 _That_ was unprompted, too. Not to mention probably hotter than anything Connor had said up to that point.

His throat tight, Gavin said, “Go on. Come for me.”

Connor groaned and shuddered right away.

Gavin felt his cock pulsing in his palm. He was right on the edge himself. “Do—do _that thing_ ,” he managed. It sounded like begging.

Even while coming down from its own peak, Connor’s body tightened around him.

It felt unbelievable, spectacular. One movement and it would all be over.

“Goddamn,” Gavin ground out. “Connor, _fuck_. Gonna come inside you.” He pulled out halfway, then thrust back into that tight warmth and let go.

Whatever Gavin said while he was pumping that perfect ass full of come, he hoped Connor wouldn’t bring it up afterward. He only-half remembered after the violent orgasm almost split his brain in two, but the words _sweet_ and _baby_ had definitely been in the mix.

Again... _whatever_.

Gavin was flushed and sweating and panting and tingling all over, clutching Connor to him to keep his cock firmly lodged until every drop was gone. “Damn,” he breathed. “ _Goddamn_.”

“Was it satisfactory, Gavin?” Connor asked.

Wiping the sweat away from his hairline with with his forearm, Gavin said, “I think a little more than just _satisfactory_.” He squeezed his eyes shut and winced. “Hold up. Coming out.” Easing his cock free was a little disappointing, so before Connor could move, Gavin put a hand on his hip and slid his finger back in.

“Mm, yeah,” he said, mostly to himself.

“If you’d like to do it again,” Connor said, “I can be ready. Though I understand it takes time for human men to be able to…”

Gavin picked up on his hesitation. “You can say, ‘get hard.’” He eased his finger out, pleasingly slick.

“Yes,” Connor said, smiling and turning to sit on the rumpled bed. “To get hard again.”

“The lady you were with, she didn’t teach you a little dirty talk?” Gavin asked. He pushed his wet finger close to Connor’s sinful mouth. “Suck,” he ordered.

Gavin might have said he could go for another round in a minute or two when Connor leaned in and took the finger in his mouth, sucking away the traces of come.

He leaned back. “She wasn’t bothered by clinical terms.”

“Okay,” Gavin said. “People are different.”

“Do you enjoy being fucked?” Connor asked, just bold as brass.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Gavin. “Calm down, cowboy.”

“I thought we had established a set of acceptable terms to use, but if you’d like to re-negotiate.”

Gavin shook his head. “No, jeez. Just...wasn’t expecting the question.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and scratched his head. “Most guys—I mean, guys that like guys—they’re either one or the other. You give it or you take it.”

“And you?” asked Connor.

They’d just had what Gavin considered amazing, sex, but the line of questioning was making him squirm. “Uh...switch it up. Sometimes.”

“I understand,” said Connor. “I also have no preference. Let me know if you’d like—”

“Damn!” Gavin cut in, standing up. He was getting uncomfortable. He bent and snagged his undershorts from the floor. “Like, we only talked about doing this one time. With _my_ rules. And now you’re talking about...shit, dude. Can’t we just sit back and feel the afterglow for a minute?”

“If you’d prefer not to do this again, Gavin, that’s fine.”

The elastic of the boxer briefs snapped around Gavin’s waist. “I didn’t say that. Look, don’t put words in my mouth.”

Connor smiled. “I could put something else in your mouth.”

“Get out,” Gavin said. His face felt like it was on fire.

“What?”

“Out. Of my house, you...goddamn freaky robot!”

Connor rose and started gathering his clothes. “I don’t know what I did to offend you—”

“Stop,” Gavin cut in. “Just _leave_.”

He went out to the living room, not even able to stand being in the same space as the android. After the door opened and shut again, Gavin punched the back of the overstuffed couch so hard it wobbled.

“Fuck!” he shouted to the empty room.

He sat on that same couch in his underwear, downing beer after beer, staring up at the ceiling. Being worked up, plus the sex, plus four-and-a-half beers of the six pack knocked Gavin out for the night at about one o’clock.

If he had any dreams, he didn’t remember them.

 

**

 

His hangover the next morning was a lot milder than Gavin expected, but even so, the “going to work” thing wasn’t happening. It took about two hours to even pry himself off the couch, where he’d had to choke down a warm beer because he’d been thirsty but too lazy to get up for water.

His phone kept ringing, and he let it ring.

Every goddamn thing felt numb. Well, except for the sharp _whatever_ that was poking around in his brain—not a hangover headache but something nasty that wouldn’t stop leaking into his thoughts. A mental fucking paper cut.

A lot of it was simple anger. If androids were so much smarter than humans, then why the hell couldn’t Connor figure out what Gavin wanted? What was pressed right up against the anger was this dark, heavy feeling—heavy because it was full of the sad reality that _Gavin_ didn’t know what Gavin wanted.

Shit was easy when you didn’t have to think about it, just go on autopilot, take the good where you can get it. But that had been Anderson’s M.O.—might still be—and look where it got him. Not a man or a woman like Connor said he liked, but whiskey and other old, bitter fucks as company.

This was honestly the first time Gavin had slowed his roll long enough to consider what was down the road for _him_. And even if it wasn’t banging androids, he was also dealing with this voice in the back of his head that kept saying he’d made a huge mistake driving Connor away, pushing him out. He was a socially awkward, weird fucker...but maybe he was the first one to “get” Gavin, because... _maybe_...tucked right under all the swagger, Gavin was a socially awkward, weird fucker, too.

Hitting that particular rock bottom at least let him peel himself off the funky-smelling couch and get in the shower, even though what he mostly did in there was sit in the corner of the stall and let the spray hit his face.

There _may_ or _may not_ have been a little crying.

Later in the afternoon, Gavin was heating canned soup on the stove when someone knocked on his door.

“Go away!” he shouted. “I’m not here.”

“Detective Reed?”

 _No, that couldn’t be Connor’s voice_. _Sure the fuck sounded like it, though._

“Gavin?”

 _Holy shit_.

Gavin punched the touchpad to turn off the stove and booked it to the front door, despite being dressed in nothing but a ratty bathrobe and a pair of boxer briefs (clean, thankfully). Sure enough, when he flung open the door, Connor stood by the threshold in his uniform, looking concerned.

“You didn’t report to the station today,” he said. “I was—”

And that was all he got out, because Gavin had him by one lapel and the back of the neck and was smashing their lips together.

Connor sure didn’t act surprised for long, because one hand came up to rest on Gavin’s cheek and he started kissing back.

When Gavin finally had to breathe, he broke away and clumsily hauled an unresisting Connor inside.

“I thought you said no kissing,” said Connor.

“I know what I said,” Gavin told him, in between mouthing a sloppy trail down his neck. “Ignore me. I’m stupid.”

One of Connor’s hands was all up in his hair, the other already underneath the collar of the bathrobe. “You’re not stupid.” He kissed Gavin hard and yanked the robe off his shoulders.

Gavin struggled with the jacket, giving up when it was scrunched around Connor’s elbows in favor of yanking the front of his shirt open and sending buttons scattering all over the floor.

“You damaged Cyberlife property,” Connor said, not sounding overly concerned. He scraped his perfect teeth along Gavin’s shoulder, skimming one hand down to run through his chest hair.

“They can fucking bill me,” Gavin breathed, bouncing up a little onto the balls of his feet and gasping when Connor gently pinched his nipple. He tugged on the shirt, the jacket. “Off,” he said.

Happy to oblige, Connor dumped the garments in a heap on the floor while Gavin moved in close, sliding a hand around to grab one flawless ass cheek through his pants. While he grabbed Gavin’s wrist and brought the other hand around to cup his ass, too, Connor toed off his shoes.

They were gradually stumbling—Gavin backward and Connor clinging to him and mirroring his steps—through the kitchen toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of rumpled clothing.

At the bedroom door, Gavin went for the fastenings on Connor’s pants, hoping in the past eighteen hours or so that he hadn’t discovered underwear.

 _Nope_ — _fantastic._

He wasn’t hard at all, but when Gavin reached in and grabbed him, his cock started filling out at inhuman speed. It couldn’t have taken more than three seconds before he was stiff in Gavin’s grip.

“That’s incredible,” Gavin said, looking down between them to make sure what he felt and what he saw matched up. “You can just do that...anytime?”

Connor stepped out of the pants, at the same time pressing his palm over Gavin’s half-hard cock. “As often as you like.”

Gavin groaned, pushing into the touch. “Aw, _fuck me_.”

Connor kissed along his unshaven jaw. “I thought you said…”

With that, Gavin paused for a moment. He put one hand at Connor’s waist and the other against his face, running a thumb over that impossible cheekbone while he met Connor’s eyes. “Yeah, don’t listen to that, either,” he said softly.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah,” Gavin told him. “I do.”

“In a little while,” Connor said. And just like that, he was sinking smoothly down to his knees, fingertips inside the waistband of Gavin’s briefs. “Yes?”

A little awed, Gavin pushed his fingers into Connor’s dark, shiny hair. “Yeah, absolutely.” He couldn’t look down for a second—this was twice in two damn days he’d been legitimately afraid of coming before he wanted to. That wasn’t something Gavin could remember worrying about since at least senior year of high school, but Connor was... _something else_. On top of being hot enough to melt eyeballs, he was _literally_ something else. Gavin decided not to think right that minute about whether he’d dug up a buried android kink.

He did snatch a glance when Connor had his briefs off and had wrapped his long fingers around Gavin’s cock.

Connor looked up, partly for reassurance but mainly, Gavin figured, because he already knew how to get under his skin—make him tingle and burn and _need_.

Then his cock was sliding into a warm, wet mouth and Gavin couldn’t hold back a little puppy-squeak, trying not to clench a fist in all that soft hair. For not having been with a guy before, Connor had cock-sucking down to an art form. Not a hint of teeth, and every once in a while that sculpted nose would bump softly against Gavin’s belly. A definite advantage to not having to eat: no gag reflex.

Gavin, whose throat was fairly twitchy, sure as fuck hoped Connor would be okay with his slightly more conservative approach if he ever went down on him.

 _If? Fuck that_ —when.

Connor pulled away for just a second and looked up.

Weird that his lips weren’t puffy or red, but the no-blood thing had to figure in. They were wet and he ran his pink tongue over them briefly and that was _way_ more than enough.

“Do you want to come now?” he asked. “Or would you like to wait until I’m inside you?”

Gray fog crept in at the corners of Gavin’s vision. _Fucking hell that was hot._ “Now,” he said meekly. “And maybe later. Um, depending on how long it lasts.”

“I can last as long as you want, Gavin.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered, trailing off into nothingness.

Connor put that sweet mouth right back to work and Gavin was fairly sure he’d be able to manage another go-round later, considering how fast he got going around Connor. Anyway, right then he was entirely too near the edge to want to stop.

“I’m real close,” he muttered, drawing circles with his fingertips on the back of Connor’s neck. “Really close.”

He got an affirmative squeeze to his ass cheek. And that, friends and neighbors, was all she wrote.

“God, baby,” he whined. “ _Fuck_. Gonna come.” And he did a second later—with no words this time, just an extravagant groan that would have made the cut in a porn flick.

After a few seconds, Connor pulled off and made a little _Mmm_ sound that did Gavin’s brain in. He looked up.

Stroking his cheekbone with one thumb, Gavin said, “If you ask me if that was ‘satisfactory,’ I’m going to fucking cut you.”

Connor winked.

_Winked!_

It was playful and it was slutty all at the same time: a motherfucking miracle.

“I assumed,” Connor said, standing up. He definitely didn’t have to struggle off his knees like an almost-but-not-quite-forty human might (would) have to do.

“Come here,” Gavin said, looking at his wet lips. “Kiss me.” His own taste was sharp on Connor’s tongue; maybe he needed more fruits and veggies and a little less beer, but whatever.

“You like tasting it,” Connor said, not a question.

“I like it because it’s in your mouth,” said Gavin. “Or, you know, anywhere else.”

“Interesting.”

“Bed,” was all Gavin said. Luckily, this time it was pre-rumpled.

“Lubricant?” Connor asked.

“Top drawer,” Gavin told him, taking a flying leap onto the bed, rolling onto his back. He was fuzzy with afterglow but still keen. He wanted to watch Connor’s face when he came.

Connor came back over, carrying the little bottle. He was fully hard and it looked so goddamn good. “Where would you like to be, Gavin?”

Other than _On your cock_ , Gavin’s answer was, “Right here. I want to watch you.” He paused. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Connor’s voice had gone lower in pitch and slick as silk, slick as the liquid he poured over his fingers.

Sly fucker had to have gotten some tutorial in seduction, if that even existed. Gavin planted his feet on the mattress, spread his legs, and raised his hips, eager.

Connor stroked him with one slippery fingertip, but wasted no time easing it in, making Gavin close his eyes and breathe in.

“Tell me when you’re ready, Gavin,” Connor told him, slowly moving the finger in and out.

“I will.” It was a breathy little whimper. “Another,” he said. “Please.”

Obliging, Connor slipped another long, slim finger in beside the first. As he moved, he bent down to stroke Gavin’s hair and whisper in his ear. “You’re doing so well, Gavin. I think you’ll take me beautifully.”

All Gavin could manage was something like a sob. Thirty-six wasn’t twenty, but he was getting hard again, amazed at how damn easy it seemed.

A kiss to his cheek, then one at the corner of his mouth.

“Would you like to touch yourself?” asked Connor.

“No—not yet. Not yet.” He gasped when he felt the press of knuckles against his ass. “Just...maybe another one.”

Connor sat up a little, making sure to introduce the third finger as smoothly as possible. He pressed a kiss right beside Gavin’s knee, making Gavin _possibly_ tear up a little.

He crammed the feeling down. Crying while getting fucked was for later—a few times in at least. It was weird to be almost certain that Connor wouldn’t mind.

“Now,” Gavin said, wrapping his fingers lightly around Connor’s wrist. “I can’t wait anymore.”

“All right,” said Connor, drawing his fingers out. He only took a moment or two to spread some more of the lubricant on his cock, then fitted his slim hips between Gavin’s thighs, bracing one rock-solid arm by Gavin’s waist and gently guiding himself.

It had been a while, but Gavin remembered. His _body_ remembered—relaxing, opening up to the smooth slide in and the feeling of being filled. He clutched at Connor’s neck and pawed at his back, making noises that were objectively ridiculous.

None of it mattered.

And Connor sure seemed to like it; Gavin could feel him smiling against his cheek as he lowered himself down—bellies pressed together, then chests, then mouths, swallowing up the careless sounds.

“What are you waiting for?” Gavin asked, trying for indignant.

Connor studied his face. “You don’t like to wait.”

“Why should I?” Tipping right over into petulant.

Brow furrowed, Connor said, “It’s supposedly a positive character trait.” He kissed Gavin’s chin briefly. “But you make a good point. There’s something to be said for—” He thrust, making Gavin mash his head back against the pillow and gasp.

“I hate you,” Gavin said, with absolutely no conviction behind it.

“Urgency,” Connor finished. He hooked an arm around Gavin’s left knee and hauled it upward nearly to his shoulder, at the same time thrusting hard and deep, forcing a cry out of Gavin’s throat.

Gavin was hard again, and leaking onto his belly.

Connor’s movements were effortless and his strength was incredible—he obviously wouldn’t be out of breath, but he didn’t seem to need to concentrate on rhythm or pacing. He turned his head and kissed Gavin’s hairy calf and wasn’t _that_ strange to look at: golden skin peppered with dark, wiry hair right up against clean, white smoothness.

“Why don’t you touch yourself,” Connor urged.

Gavin nodded rapidly, right away snaking a hand around his cock and stroking.

Angled deep and moving in clockwork time, Connor asked, “Do you want me to ejaculate?” After a pause: “I’m sorry, I don’t know a better word to get the point across.”

“Uh...you don’t always?” Gavin asked, his voice tight with pleasure.

“No,” said Connor. “And I can control the volume.”

“Yes, fuck, yes!” Gavin panted. “I want that.”

“A little or a lot?”

A helpless whine. Just talking about this was going to make him come. “A lot. Fuckin'... _fill me up._ ”

“Good,” Connor told him, silky and approving. “But I’d like you to come for me first, Gavin.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, speeding up his strokes. “I’m gonna. Fuck me hard. Don’t stop.”

Connor was ever-obliging.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room—wet motion, Gavin’s rapid breath.

After a second, he went still and practically shouted, striping his chin with come like he hadn’t for at least ten years.

Connor did that _Mmm_ thing again, like he was savoring, and then actually _did:_ leaning over while still pounding away to suck some of the still-warm fluid off of Gavin’s chest.

“Ah, shit,” Gavin whispered, resting his sweaty, filthy hand on Connor’s head.

Right next to his skin, Connor said, “Are you ready?”

More whispering—all Gavin could do: “Yeah. Yeah.”

And there it was, completely fucking perfect: helpless pleasure written all over the gorgeous face that Gavin had first seen in the briefing room. Exactly as he’d imagined. No— _better_.

He had a long time to appreciate it, too, because it went on and on for drawn-out seconds: the cock inside him pulsing, filling him with whatever the stand-in substance for androids was—more and more until Gavin could feel unfamiliar pressure building inside him.

Then it was over, Connor pausing with eyes closed and mouth slightly open for a moment or two. Afterward, he bent to put his mouth on Gavin’s, urging a deep kiss.

He broke away and stared at Gavin, looking over his face again—the flushed cheeks and stubble and sweat, the come pooled in the notch between his collarbones.

Connor’s hair was tousled and a little dirty where Gavin had touched it, but otherwise there was nothing messy or clumsy or _undone_ about him.

That might take some getting used to.

“Sorry,” Gavin said, right off the bat. “We can shower if you want.”

“Not yet,” Connor said. “I want to keep your smell and your taste a while.”

Gavin let go of a stunned laugh. “I’d have thought you’d be grossed out.”

There was Connor’s smile, which was just as nice as his o-face. “No. It makes me feel...surrounded.”

Another chuckle, and Gavin said. “You _are_ surrounded. Well, part of you.”

“Would you like me to pull out?” Connor asked.

“Nah,” said Gavin, raising one arm and resting his head on his hand. “If you’re comfortable, stay for a while.”

“I will, Gavin,” Connor said. “I’ll stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my pre-reader/beta Pam - thanks, babe!


End file.
